Archive of Our Own

Warden,

Nona kissed my hand today, and it was exactly like you. I don't mean it made me think of you, Warden - I mean it made me think you'd jumped from my body to hers. She said, "Palamedes asked me to give that to you." I was weak. I went and sat in the bathtub. The plex smelled like bleach and the lip of the tub pressed against my back, and still all I could feel was your lips on my hand.

What was this, Warden? Is this some new flesh magic you've discovered? Did you program Nona the way Harrowhark programs her skeletons? Or is it just Nona? We know she's clever with movements, but this…

More importantly, what does it mean? It seems to point to Harrowhark more than Gideon. God knows neither of them did much in the way of kissing, but Harrow is a Lyctor, and a scholar of the body, though admittedly the parts of a body that can kiss were never her specialty.

Ignore the gestalt theory for a moment. It's your hammer, and whatever Nona is, she's not a nail. Consider all the possibilities. What do we know? What do we suspect? I'll let you write it out for yourself; you always preferred that.

Thank you for the kiss. It felt nice.

Your Scholar

~

Camilla,

I'll admit to a terrible act of manipulation. I wanted to kiss your hand - but I also wanted to see how well Nona could replicate it. We've suspected for some time that she understands the world primarily through bodily movement - it was you who figured out that that was the secret to her lingual abilities - I wanted to see how precise she could be. I'm sorry for the fright. If I'd warned you, it would've thrown off the data.

I'll thank you to stop calling my Cavalier weak. After all you've done, all you've carried, you deserve to rest in utter comfort, luxury even. A few minutes in the bathtub is hardly an indulgence. Camilla, we always knew I'd ask unreasonable strength of you, but this is beyond our wildest conjectures. Stop beating yourself up for being human.

Here's what we know: Harrowhark disappeared into the River during the fight with Number Seven. This may have occurred in conjunction with Mercymorn stabbing her body. At near the same time, Gideon awoke in said body, where she stayed until Augustine the First pushed the Mithraeum into the River. Gideon smashed the window of the Mithraeum and made to swim away, but died before Pyrrha could reach her. The body remained primarily asleep for months, and when it woke up, it was Nona. Pardon me - it was inhabited by Nona. The things this place has done to me, Cam. My language grows more imprecise by the hour.

Here's what we know about Nona: Her eyes are golden, which is the color Gideon's eyes were, and the color Harrow's would be if she absorbed Gideon's soul fully. In terms of personality, she's not terribly similar to either of them (barring a fondness for dirty jokes, though that may be Pyrrha's influence anyway). She adores animals, hates food, and wants to be friends with everyone. She has no aptitude, as far as we can tell. If she ever knew the sword, she's forgotten it. She dreams of Gideon's face surrounded by salt water. Her healing abilities, which Harrow lacked, are nonpareil. She knows people by the way they move, which she can replicate with uncanny precision.

Here's what we suspect: She's probably not Harrowhark, or at least not solely Harrowhark. We can't rule out mundane memory loss, but it does seem unlikely. That leaves three possibilities: Gideon; a gestalt; or someone else entirely.

If she's Gideon, why the memory loss? We know Harrow's protective measures didn't cause it, since Gideon knew who she was before leaving the Mithraeum. What happened in the River that could have caused Gideon to functionally (if not literally) disappear and come back as Nona?

Palamedes

~

Warden,

New idea. Ask Nona where she got her lingual abilities. If she says "From your mum," she's Gideon.

There's more that we know. We know Harrowhark Nonagesimus spoke the Eightfold Word. We know Gideon the Ninth died and Harrow caught her. When she was lost in the River, it was a second death.

We know she was trapped for months at the bottom of Harrowhark's soul. That Harrow trapped her rather than absorb her. Warden- you know the question I want to ask. Here's a different one. On a metaphysical level, what did it do to her soul to be in such a state? What happens, what really happens to a cavalier absorbed by their Adept?

Pyrrha says it's a sort of semi-consciousness; at least it was for her. She says the other cavaliers were just gone - mindless. I can't understand it, Warden. If the soul is intact, why can't it think? If it's dissolved, why does it retain its swordhand?

What did the Emperor trade with his cavalier? What was she, and why won't Pyrrha tell us?

Explain the Megatheorem again to me, Warden. Tell me what happened to Naberius the Third, Gideon the Ninth, Nigella the Sixth, Pyrrha Dve. We know there's a weak link.

Your Scholar

~

Cam,

The answer to the question you didn't ask is still no. You know what it's like (or more accurately, what it's not like) when I take hold of you; it's the same for me. There's no pain in it, and if there were, it would be a price I'd be happy to pay. I wish it did hurt sometimes, or hurt me at least. It's terribly unfair I put you through so much at so little cost. No, the space in your soul I've lately colonized is entirely too comfortable.

Not so with the Eightfold Word. I know what you're doing, making yourself read it over and over.

Preservation. As the Cavalier dies, the Adept catches hold of their soul. They keep it from entering the River. It is powerful and fragile, and the would-be Lyctor indulges the megalomaniacal belief that they can hold it in their hands.

Analysis. The Necromancer combs over their Cavalier's soul, comes to comprehend the fullness of them. I believe this is the step Ianthe the First completed poorly, and that's why she struggled in the early days of her Lyctorhood. She never saw Naberius Tern as a person, not really; so she never properly understood the depth of his soul. Why she thought she could ascend even to an imperfect Lyctorhood under such conditions is still a mystery to me.

Transference - if I ever thank God for anything again, Cam, it'll be for transference. Harrow didn't understand at the time what was happening. To hear Ianthe tell it, this is when the Necromancer learns to use the soul they've captured. But Cam, when Harrow told me that Gideon could see the touchpoints on that construct, it saved me from utter despair. I was beginning to think I'd gotten it wrong, that Lyctorhood really was a one-way street. But it wasn't just Harrow seeing through Gideon - it was both of them seeing together. Even in imperfect Lyctorhood, there's some reciprocal transference - how else could a Lyctor's body remain active when its primary soul is in the River? No, there must be a mutuality to Lyctorhood, and transference is the proof.

Fixation. The Necromancer attaches their Cavalier's soul to themself. The primary purpose is to keep the Cavalier from slipping into the River. I suspect it has a secondary function, as well, which Gideon the First failed to fully implement. This is the step that blocks the two-way flow of transference, keeping the Necromancer in control.

Incorporation. Cam, I hate this. I hate even describing it to you. The Lyctor - because they do resemble a Lyctor now, more than any mortal person - acclimates their own soul to that of their Cavalier. They hollow out a space within themself the exact shape of the Cavelier's soul. Here again Ianthe's failure to comprehend Naberius the Third got in her way. She didn't really know his shape, so the lacuna she made for him was imperfect. A Lyctor who knows their Cavalier better does this step with greater competence, but is all the more abhorrent for it. How anyone could instrumentalize something like this - it doesn't bear thinking about.

Consumption. Disgusting. Enough said.

Reconstruction. The Lyctor goes full god-complex, believing they can recreate their Cavalier from component parts. I hate them, Camilla. I hate every single Lyctor, even Harrow.

Power. The fucking zombie - Blood of Eden don't know how accurate that term is in this application - begins their new life, if you can call it that. They draw eternally on the soul they ground up and reconstituted. The rest of their very, very long existence is spent in a continual act of desecration. Fuck, there's the timer.

Palamedes

~

Warden,

You're editorializing. Let me tell you the story from the cavalier's perspective.

Preservation. You start to die, and your Adept catches you. You start to fall, and they hold you. You start to slip, and they don't let go.

Analysis. They know you. It's the only thing that matters.

Transference. They know you and they see what you see. They know you and you see what they see.

Fixation. I've told you before that love and freedom don't coexist.

Incorporation. They make a place for you. I wonder sometimes what it must be like to be held like that. To curl up inside my Adept and fall asleep.

Consumption. I know it disgusts you, Warden, and you're right to be disgusted. But when I think about being taken apart by you, becoming part of you, I can't honestly say I feel the same.

Reconstruction. By this point, you already aren't your own. Now you become a thing of their making. They shape you and set you. You fill the mould they made for you.

Power. You're theirs. You get to be theirs forever.

I know you hate it. I don't blame you - the Adept gets the worse end of the deal, by far. But you have to look at it without that filter of disgust if you want to understand where it goes wrong.

You say fixation is the interruption of the two-way flow. So, tell me about fixation. Tell me what it would look like if the cavalier were left untethered.

Your Scholar

~

Cam, don't talk like that. Please. God, Cam, I know I'm weak; I know I ask too much of you, but I can't bear to hear you talk like that. Tell me you wouldn't. Tell me now, please. You know I'd never ask you to, but tell me anyway.

Palamedes

~

Warden,

Of course I wouldn't. I'm not so selfish as that.

Love is no easy thing, Warden. What I'm trying to tell you is that it's easier to be consumed than it is to consume. It's all so much easier when you're not the one who has to think about what happens after. You talk about the selfishness and cowardice of the Lyctors - I think the cavaliers are worse. Eschewing responsibility like that? Being party to the world's greatest sin, leaving your Adept to face the consequences without you? Everyone seems to think of these cavaliers as victims. I don't know that I blame them - given the grief they've been carrying for a myriad, who wouldn't want to pretend they were the sole villain? But it takes two people to make a Lyctor, and nearly all of them went willingly. Honestly, Naberius Tern is the best of any of them.
I apologize. I lost track of where I was going. My point is that I don't think we can reach a proper understanding of Lyctorhood without considering the Cavalier's role. I wish Pyrrha would tell me about it - I think she thinks I'm asking her for tips.

What is it to be consumed? What does it mean? What does it involve doing? What happened to A.L., and what happened to Nigella Shodash, and how are they different, in practical terms? That's what I want to know.

I will not abandon you, Warden.

Your Scholar

~

Cam, beloved,

You're so fucking brilliant, Camilla. Of course you saw the piece I was missing, it's so obvious in retrospect.

Of course it comes back to fixation. That's the great perversion, we always knew it was. It holds the Cavalier's soul in place and stops up the intermingling of the two souls. The symbolism is important here - stopping, holding still. It's not the nature of souls to hold still. We know this from looking at the River. But I've always thought, neither is it the nature of souls to avoid comingling. The assumption that souls don't bleed into each other is the foundation of Lyctorhood. It's even the foundation of what the Emperor did. What if he's wrong, Cam? What if everything we understand about the soul has been based on a false assumption for 10,000 years? He gave A.L. her own body, and more agency than the other Cavaliers, but he's still holding her apart from him. When we learned about her, we thought we'd misunderstood what true Lysis was. But what if we were right, and God is wrong?

Palamedes

~

Warden,

I think I see where you're going. We need some cooldown on the timer, so let me try and write it out for you.

Preservation. You and I are holding each other above an abyss. We've played some tricks with gravity, but it can't last forever.

Analysis. I know your soul better than anything. If I forgot everything else, I would still know you. If I lost myself, I'd know you.

Transference. I lose myself, but I still know you. You lose yourself, but you still know me. So we haven't really lost anything.

Incorporation. Without fixation, it's nearly redundant. I already am made of you, and vice versa.

Consumption and Reconstruction. This is the other point where it changes. This is what you mean by lysis, yes? You'll be unhappy that I'm still using the words, but let's not sugar-coat it. It's still a mutual cannibalism. I am you remaking me. We're a big disgusting slurry of digestive juices. We become part of each other on the subatomic level. There is no more barrier.

Power. We're something else, now. Something new. Warden, isn't this what death has always been? The body crumbles and recycles. Why not the soul as well?

Do you think it's like those moments when we overlap, or is it something else? If I could live in those moments forever, Warden, I'd be happy. But I've felt the craving inside it, and I think you have too. It's a hungry state of being. Is this true Lyctorhood, or is true Lyctorhood the thing it's hungry for?

Camilla

Cam,

You've caught my thoughts exactly. True Lysis must mean you both have to venture into the unknown that swirls within the River. Perhaps the deeper sin of Lyctorhood is that it holds a soul on this bank. That the soul is held for exploitation just adds insult to injury.

Our shared moments are the happiest I've ever been, but I don't think it's the real thing. It has to be a complete dissolution, I think - no more you and me, just us. It would mean our deaths, in more ways than one. It wouldn't be easy. We'd have to keep from getting trapped in the River with all the other ghosts. We'd need to make sure it was really us on the other end. I've no doubt we can do it, given enough time to figure it out. But, Cam, we don't have to. I know you know that, but it bears repeating. I have less to lose than you do. You're alive. You could live and grow old and die like a normal person. That's worth something.

Palamedes

~

Warden,

You're not the only one who loves unwholesomely. Say it to me, now that we know what it means.

Camilla

~